The Lake District - The Tango and The Wind Riders Biker Meet.

'Taking it easy in Bariloche'

El Bolson is lovely. Not only because it's warm enough to take the thermal linings out of our bike trousers, and I'm down to only one pair of thermals underneath those, but it is very pretty. It's a bit of a hippy town and it never ceases to amaze me that they sell the same things at these markets all over the world and all of the vendors have the same hippy look about them. One good thing about this market though, was the fresh fruit. We could feel the vitamins kick in as soon as we'd finished our freshly pured strawberry and banana smoothies. It had been a while.
After siesta, I locate a bike shop with a tyre in stock for my rear wheel. Mike's not so lucky and the moto mechanico wants to charge him a fortune for the fork seals he busted on a pothole.

Heading up to Bariloche in search of a cheaper mechanico, we notice that there are loads of bikes on the roads. Ok, so once again they're lovely roads, but we haven't seen many bikes for quite a while and these ones are large i.e. the same engine size as mine if not bigger.

After a bit of looking around town and the best Lemon Meringue Pie, we've located a club that teaches the Tango. Classes don't kick off until 10:30pm so we head out for beer, the micro brewery type, and pizza. Donning our best kit, oil stained cargos and our cleanest, out of shape t-shirts, we hit the dance floor. Once we've stopped laughing, we start to move our oversized, akward feet somewhat in time the the music. Fortunately Mike is pretty good at counting the beat, the Tango is in something weird like 6/8 time. Not the easiest for me to follow. Eventually the few other people in the club can't bear to watch us destroy their national dance and Mike get's led off by a girl who actually knows what she's doing and I get swept around the dance floor by 'Harold Bishop', who manages to teach me a thing or two, and possibly made me look not half bad, even with my motorycling boots on. Patricia, our teacher had almost given up, but after a short break, she has Mike back up Tangoing around the room - with all of the leg flinging thrown in too.

All the dancing was a bit too much for me and Mike founds out the next morning that there is a Biker meet on that afternoon. Following the Circuito Chico route for 64km out of Bariloche then down to a campsite for beer and music. I'm usually not too keen on large gatherings of bikes, especially the leather chap wearing kind but figure it might be a bit of a laugh. So off we follow. I'm Mike's 'Chica', being lasy going pillion for the day. We're a bit late but catch them half way round the circuit. They leave as soon as we arrive but we don't let that put us off. Stopping for a bit of tourist stuff, we head off down to the campsite later in the afternoon. I know why I've never been to one of these meets before and I know never to go again, but god it was funny. There was so much testosterone flying around. Tug-o-wars and beer games. Who can rev their engine the loudest, you get the picture. They did have a great and cheap (no tourist prices for the local bikers) asado though.
The highlight of the evening though had to be the band. Jesus they were awful. Leather clad, tone deaf and playing air guitar, the lead singer had it all. We had to leave before they worked out we were laughing at them rather than having a jolly ol' time.

'Looks like Mike wants to join the Wind Riders'

Carretera Austral

'The Carretera Austral'

All of the cyclist we had met so far, and there have been quite a few, were heading up the Carretera Austral. And when we got there, we could see why.
Ruta 39 was the most southerly route to cross the border and that's where we started.
It was already warmer, being out of the wind, and the road, although mostly dirt, was an easier ride. But the best thing about this route is the scenery. Kilometres and kilometres of rainforest and steep valleys with glacial lakes and waterfalls. It's all good. And I can't think of any more adjectives to describe how stunning/amazing/beautiful the scenery is.
I almost want to trade in the moto for bicycle and start cycling, but being the lazy person I am, I don't.

'Mmmmm......look at that winding road!'

It's not all dirt roads so one for the guys who've ridden through the Rhayader Valley, get yourselves down here. A paved road, for a good 200km, with no traffic, no wind and twists and curves that you dream about. My rather squared off tyres (from Ruta 3 and 40) got a bit of a work out. And if you've got time to look, it's very, very pretty.
So all fun and games until you hit the road works. My now balding tyres decide they don't like the gravel roads so much anymore and we're back down to slow speeds. There is freshly laid tarmac that we're not supposed to be riding on, but the gravel on the 'Devisio' is so large and slippery, we think 'What the heck, no one's looking' and ride on it. Great until we come across a section that they're actually working on and the guy on the roller is so peeved that he aims his roller straight at Mike. Commonsense prevails and he stops at the last minute. There's a bunch of guys waving they're arms at us but then just ask us to slow down a bit. I think they can see that it is too dangerous to ride the bikes on the Devisio. We don't care, our number plates are covered in mud. I can hear the workman now, 'Bloody Foreigners!'

On a bit of bad note, the Carretera Austral may not remain as beautiful as it is now. Pinochet apparently sold the water rights to a Spanish/German company who are planning to dam the valley and build a Hydroelectricity plant. The power would be then transferred overland 2000km up to Sanitago, using the large overland pylons. I'm all up for alternative power supplies, but not at the expense of National Parks and areas of oustanding beauty. Not sure on the details but it would be an absolute tragedy to loose this area to a dam. There have been protests so hopefully it won't be going ahead and they can develop some other way to provide an environmentally friendly power source.

We turn off the Carretera Austral to head up to EL Bolson, back in the much cheaper Argentina, and a new rear tyre for me. Leaving Andreas and Kristina to head further north in search of some thermal springs.

'Another lovely view from our tent'

Lets try Ruta 39 instead

'The good Ruta 39'

The German couple we passed in the Landcrusier had suggested the crossing to Chile via Ruta 39 wasn't too bad. I was up for anything to get off Ruta 40.
At an average speed of 37km/hr, we were slower still. But it's not all about the speed. Especially when you have beautiful scenery. And fun tracks to ride. And most importantly, no wind.

'Cowboys and gals'

We passed through paddocks where the sheep and cows didn't run out in front of you. There were twists and turns in the track as we made our way back into the Andes. Lakes of amazing blues and turquoise to stop and have lunch at. Pink flamingoes and Condors and all manor of wild life.
A long day but free camping by a stream, just across the Chilean border, in the mountains, was heaven. Who needs that beach.

The soul destroying Ruta 40

'Is it straight on do you think Mike?'

Andreas and Kristina, a German couple we met in El Chalten who are two up on an African Twin are now travelling with us. We head off to Bajo Caracoles, over 300km of Ruta 40 on ripio. It was going to be a hard day's riding.We fill up with petrol at Tres Lagos and then head off.
My god, the wind. It's hard enough trying to keep the bike upright on the ripio as it is but add to the equation, the inssesent winds battering you from the side and front and its just not fun. After two hours and meeting a fellow biker (German of course) travelling the other direction, we stop for lunch - in a rare hollow of landscape to avoid getting dirt blown into our sandwiches. It's here that we look at the Ruta Argentina (Argentinian Road Atlas) and decide to head to Gregores Gobernador. We should be able to get some cash out, no point in turning up at the next pertol station 300km away, only to find that they don't take Visa. And also the Ruta Argentinas indicates that this route should be a better road. It means a 60km detour.

'Lunch time, keeping low!'

So much for a better road.
Mike was in front, me in the middle and Adreas and Kristina following. The road was dead straight as it had been for the last 60km or so. The track isn't too bad but it is a track rather than a road. We're making steady progress. That is, until we hit a patch of deep large gravel. Mike makes it through but I think I was somewhat tired and didn't notice his brake lights or the very slight change in colour of the track. The KLR and I don't make it through. It's the first time I've dropped my bike on the trip and as well as being a bit sore, I'm gutted. I was really hoping not to drop it at all. Oh well, that was probably wishful thinking.
The spill has broken the KLR's windscreen and headlight protector but other than that she is fine. I'm a little in shock, annoyed at myself for obvioulsy not paying enough attention to the road. A lesson learnt. After a bit we continue the last 30km into town, find a nice cabaña and stay the night, out of the wind.
I really don't understand how people could live here. But the laundry guy comments 'Mucho viento' (Much wind) so maybe it is uncommon.

At an average speed of 42km/hr we weren't getting anywhere fast. We pass another German motorcylist and then a German couple in a landcruiser and Swiss in a overlander truck. How much would I have paid to be in that Landcrusier! Warm, out of the wind and easier to drive than ride on the gravel roads. You could listen to music, chat to your travelling companions, maybe even have a nice warm cup of coffee on the go. Anything to pass the monotany of driving for 100kms on bad roads, in a straight line, whilst being buffeted by the wind.

After the hardest day of riding yet, I'm miserable. I'm shattered, sore and the thought riding in wind like we have been makes me want to cry. This is no holiday. Where's the beach?

El Chalten - The way National Parks should be

' Happy Trekers'

You've got to love a place as beautiful as El Chalten that also has free camping, free entry to the National Park and Mt Fitzroy as a back drop.
We stopped here for 3 nights. Getting some exercise with a gentle 3 hour trek on the first day and sleeping and catching up with the diaries on the second day (The wind had picked up and the clouds rolled in so there was no point in a 6 hour trek to see mountains covered in cloud). Plus I was feeling rather lazy.
If you have a choice and want to get some treking in, I'd recommend skipping Torres del Paine and heading to El Chalten. Apparently it is the home of treking but don't let that put any novices off. Yes there were hardcore guys there but then there was also us and 'Brian'.
As we're slowly making our way up to the 'Mirrador' (Viewing spot) for Mt Fitzroy, a group of about 5 people passed us. They had the whole kit and caboodle happening. All the technical clothing, the walking poles and the backpacks with stuff clipped on including snow shoes and crampons. These guys looked serious, obvioulsy heading up to climb the glacier. Then came 'Brian'. He was obvioulsy with the group but unfortunately he looked to be the clumsy one. He stopped to adjust something, just in front of us. We passed him. Then he went running past, trying to to catch his friends. A water bottle fell off. He stopped again, clipped it back on and then carried swiftly on. Then a crampon fell off. I think it was Mike who picked it up, handing it back to 'Brian' and suggested he may need it. I just hope to god the rest of the group hadn't left him in charge of anything important.

' Lovely vistas'

El Calafate - oil changes and glaciers

The spring flowers on the edge of the pampas and in the Andean foothills are beautiful. Reds, yellows and purples plus all the shades in between. The ride, on pavement, into El Calafate is stunning and the landscape reminds me of what I learned in my Geography classes about glacial valleys. And Lago Argentino is stunning in foreground with the snow capped mountains in the distance finishing off the perfect picture.

We opt for a day off here deciding the bikes need some TLC. A wash and oil change are in order. Clean bikes, it's oil change time. The wind is picking up again and if we thought we we're dirty and dusty before, it's about to get worse. My advice to anyone doing an oil change on a bike, don't do it in the wind. The bikes were fine, but our bike kit didn't fare so well. We managed to get oil splashes all over us, not a problem until we hit the next bit of dirt road and the dust stuck. Our trousers look permanently filthy now. And yes Mum, we have washed them. Anyone know how to get oil stains off Gortex without ruining the waterproofing?

'The left half of the glacier'

El Calafate is very touritsy with its draw card being the Glacier Perito Moreno. It is amazing. We spent about 2 hours captivated by the 50m high, 5 km long face of the advancing glacier. The noises and crashes as the ice advances, falling into the lake is something else. And the colours on blue and white are beautiful. Once again, loads of photos that don't do it justice. You'll have to come and see it for yourselves. And don't be put off by the amount of tourists. The viewing platforms are so well laid out that you hardly notice anyone else.

Ruta 40 and Larry the Lamb

'Rest stop on the easy part of Ruta 40'

Next adventure is the infamous Ruta 40. A major route north on the western edge of the Pampas. It's still flat and still very windy. And the road is of varying quality. Some of it is paved, some under construction to be paved and it seems to someone on two wheels, an awful lot still ripio, at least in the south where we were riding.
Now you all would have heard the saying 'Survival of the fittest'. Well on Ruta 40 it is also a case of 'Survival of the smartest' and Larry the lamb didn't quite make the grade. But with a mum like his, it was hardly suprising.
The section of Ruta 40 we were riding at this particular point was about 140km of ripio and not much else. Its flat and windy. So why then would two ewes decide to cross the road right at the moment that the only traffic on the road for probably the last two hours is passing? One of the great mysteries of the world. So the one tourist bus in front of us barely misses the two mums and the first lamb to cross. Larry is a bit slow so he doesn't realise mum has crossed the road just yet. Well not until Mike is passing. The brake lights come on, there is a bit of dust. Mike's bike is sliding down the road on it's side and the little lamb is also on his side. Not looking to well. By the time I get there, Mike is up and in one piece but the lamb isn't. We lift up the BMW (bikes tend to leak petrol when laying on their sides so it's best to get them up as quickly as possible) and then inspect the damage.
Unfortunately it looks like game over for Larry. There is still a bit of movement from him but while we are trying to figure out what to do with him, it seems he has taken his last breathe and we are saved from having to do anything. I'd like to mention that Larry took a major blow to the head so I suspect it was rather quick for him.
The worse thing for us was the fact that his mum kept looking back over at us from a distance, waiting to see her baby come over and join her. Why didn't she 'Stop, look and listen'. It was very sad and I nearly cried at the unnecessary death.
After a few minutes, when Larry's mum has wondered off a bit further and stopped looking back at us, we pull ourselves together and ride on up to El Calafate.
That night we had a drink for Larry, stupid as he was.

Northbound onto Torres del Paine

'This sign just about sums it up, apparently there are no palm trees in Patagonia 'cause they were all blown over to Africa'

To cut a boring story short, we left Ushuaia the next day and managed to make the ferry to Punta Arenas with 15 minutes to spare. Thank god as the next ferry was in two days time.
The highlight of Punta Arenas was finding Milo for sale in the supermarket (Peanut butter would have been better but Milo wasn't bad) and now Mike is converted.
Back to Rio Gallegos to pick up some tyres with the hope of giving this Argentinian town a second chance. No such luck. Still a grumpy 'ol town. And we manage to escape by 5pm the following day. A bit late to be leaving town but we wanted to get as far away from there as quickly as possible.

Next stop, Torres del Paine. This is our first real taste of just how money orientated the Chileans can be. 15GBP each to enter the National Park, then a 92km ride on the worst ripio we have ridden, just to reach one of the few campsites that we don't have to pay to use. (And you have to camp in a designated campsite) It was out of principle that I was heading for the free camp. 15 quid, just to look at some mountains. Unfortunately it started to rain. And the free campsite was actually another half hour walk, in motorcyle kits, from where we had to park the bikes.

'Our Refugio in the rain'

Torres del Paine's saving grace for us was that it stopped raining in the morning. Which put us in slightly better moods, although we still had 92km of horrible roads to ride (at least without the rain we would be able to see where we were riding). No rain also meant no clouds, so we could at least see the god damn mountains that we had riden so far to see.

'Kind of worth the ride'

Fin del Mundo - Take Two

'The Sign'

After a day off, internet, more washing, and most importantly, checking the weather reports, we head back to Ushuaia. If we're going to do the Trans American, we should at least start it properly.
It turns out that Ruta Tres (3), that we have been following pretty much all the way from Buenos Aires, actually finishes about another 20km or so past the city of Ushuaia, in the National Park. This is where 'The Sign' is.
Embarrassingly, we have to tell all of the people who are congratulating us on finishing the Trans Am, that we're in fact, only just starting it. Most people start in Alaska, hence the name of this blog, Trans Am Upside Down.
More photos, a quick look around the park, it's still cold, and it finally feels like the adventure has started.
To make the most out of our second visit to Ushuaia, we also embark on a tour cruise on the Beagle Channel. I suggest to all of you that if you ever get the chance, then get to Ushuaia and the National Park. It is stunning. But you could miss the Beagle Channel cruise if you wanted, especially if you don't cope so well with sea sickness - or the smell of sea lions.

The beginning - Tierra del Fuego, more like Tierra del Fria

Something's different, and I can't quite put my finger on it. It takes another couple of kilometers before I realize that we're riding through a forest. It's been about 1000km since I saw anything that resembled a tree. We've just turned inland about 70km past Rio Grande. And then come the snow capped mountains, and lakes. It's so refreshing I almost feel like I've just eaten a Smint (Actually, I had just eaten a Smint but the scenery is still stunning).

'The wrong sign'

Eventually we reach Ushuaia. We stop to take some photographs at the ¡Bienvenido to Ushuaia! sign, despite the policemen at the control point looking on amuzed. We've made it to the beginning. Mike notices that the sign is a bit different to the one we've seen in everyone elses photographs and that it no longer says how many kilometres it is to Alaska but hey ho, here we are.
For once it's not too cold. That is until we wake up the next morning and it's snowing. Fun packing up a tent in the snow. We hear that it will be -3 degrees that night so we decide to make a run for it back to the warmer climate of Rio Grande. It was a short and sweet visit to Fin del Mundo.

'Let it snow, let it snow, let snow'

I was looking forward to the ride back across the mountain pass. Paseo Garibaldi. About 80kms of winding roads and no traffic. It was very enjoyable, if a bit cold, until I see the snow settling on the verges. I'm starting to think this may not be such a good idea, twisty roads in the snow. Hmmm.....
It turns out not to be such a good idea when we get to within about 3 km of the pass. It's first gear and both feet on the ground. Fortunately there is no traffic so we literally ride the bikes up at walking pace. We make it to the pass and Mike stops to take a picture. I think I'd mentioend that it would make a good photo opportunity when we had passed over the day before, when the sun was shining!
Photos taken, still no traffic, then over Mike slips - with the bike. All of a sudden there is a semi-trailer and two 4x4s behind us and another two cars coming from the other direction. I love the way they all turn up, just as one of us drops our bikes. I'm also thinking 'How the hell do we get down from here?'. It's fine going up hill but the bikes weigh a tonne and there is ice all over the road. I stand no chance of keeping the KLR in control. Maybe one of the 4x4s could put my bike on the tray back and take it down for me. No point in trying to be tough and independant at a time like this.
I just start to warm up the eyelashes for a bit of fluttering and appealing to the macho truck drivers, after I've helped Mike pick his bike up of course, before asking the guy approaching us in my 'un poco Castillano', 'For how much further is the road covered in snow?' I think he says 'not much' and with my eyelashes back to normal speed, I decide to be brave and independant and see if I can't ride the bike down myself.
Turns out I can understand a bit of Latin American Spanish after all as about 20 meters further on from where Mike dropped the BMW, the snow finishes. (Take a look on mIke's website for some more photos of the snow incident, I was too busy just trying to stay upright to take photos)

So we're toasty warm back in Rio Grande and camping in the grounds of Hotel Argentino, a very cool hostel. We meet some fellow Brits, slightly 'loco', who are cycling up to Colombia for charity. We get to comparing photographs on our digital cameras when Mike sees it. The sign that all Trans American travellers have their photos taken at. The sign that tells you how far it is to Alaska in kilometers.
Doh!

Tierra del Fuego - finally

We get out of town as quickly as possible the next morning - so that'd be about 10-11am. Nothing like taking it easy. (Although the accommodation was crap, they had hot showers)
The ride down to Estrecho de Magallanes goes smoothly, even with our first border crossing into Chile. Although, as the name sounds, it's very chilly. While we wait for the car ferry, I venture to stick a toe in the water. It really is too cold for that, so I manage to take my glove off and in goes a finger. Jesus b=??$%5 %%$%#$. It's freezing.
A short ferry ride, after a run in with the guy loading the ferry, and we have made it to Tierra del Fuego. It's strange but the landscape seems to feel different here, although I'm sure it's pretty much the same. Maybe it's the light, or maybe it's like we finally are making it to the start of our adventure. It's 3pm when we hit the ripio again - about 50 meters from where the ferry docked. So off we head, next stop, San Sabastian border crossing.
We get into the 'zone' on the gravel and it's not as scarry as I had imagined. We pass a few trucks and the guys are off. I can't keep up with the speed, I'm too busy looking at the scenery. It is captivating. There is something about it that I can't describe. So I won't bore you trying. We cross back in to Argentina at about 6:30pm.

'Tierra del Fuego'

Ushuaia is too far to reach that evening, so we stop in Rio Grande. Posh hotel - for us anyway as it includes breakfast. We're looking rather scruffy in our dusty bike kit as the business men come down for breakfast the next morning, in their suits for instant nescafe. Mmmm....yummy! I think I prefer our espresso that we make make in Mike's espresso pot.
So today we will reach the the beginning.

Tyre problems, Welsh Towns and not much else on Ruta 3

'Mike doing the first of his tyre repairs'

After our little excursion around the peninsula, Mike realizes that his rear tyre has a puncture. Or actully, the repair he had in it had failed on the gravel road. So it's off to Puerto Madryn for a new tyre, depsite one already being on the way to Rio Gallegos (Or so we thought) for him. A night there, in a reasonable Municiple Campsite before heading off for Welsh Cream tea. We had been talking to a guy the night before who told us about this 'Artist' in Gaiman who had spent a lifetime decorating his garden with painted plastic bottles. We were also told that there would be the cheapest coffee and cake in town served there.
Next morning off we head. All I could think about was a lovely cream tea....mmmmmmmmmmmm............
We arrive in Gaiman. The young fellow in the tourist centre falls over himself to give us directions to the town's particular highlights. And off we head. The place is like a ghost town. Once again we've arrived before the season, or in mid-siesta. We check out the 'Artist' garden. To be honest, it's all a bit creepy, but you can decide for yourselves when I get around to putting up some photos. And to make matters worse, there is no coffee or no cake. Not only at this guy's place, but we can't find a cream tea anywhere in town. Gutted. Instead it's bland cheese and ham sandwiches from the garage.

'Can you tell what it is yet?'

That night we free camp in the pampas. I'm starting to realise that there really isn't too much to the east coast of Patagonia. It's just flat and windy.
We do find some winding roads into Comodora Rivadavia and some nice coastal scenery on the way down to Puerto San Julian, where we stop for the next night. The statues in this town are a bit strange also. A fighter plane from the Falkands War and a pirate ship. The Falklands is obvioulsy still a big issue on the east coast of Argentina and it's a good thing not to be English.
Rio Gallegos, well what can I say about this place. If you can avoid it, do so. The least friendliest people in Argentina that we have met so far. Expensive bad accommodation and damn it, Mike's tyres aren't here. Oh, and I almost forgot, a hail storm to set the scene as we ride around searching for somewhere to stay the night.
Tomorrow we are off to Tierra del Fuego..........

'Free camp in the pampas'